


Pompeii

by Seventeen_Juice_Boxes



Series: Bad Blood [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: And very queer, Depression, Eliot Waugh is a Good Man, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Songfic, They're very stupid, a little sad, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23692087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seventeen_Juice_Boxes/pseuds/Seventeen_Juice_Boxes
Summary: But if you close your eyesDoes it almost feel like nothing changed at all?OrQuentin Coldwater misses his old life. Eliot shows him it's not really gone.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: Bad Blood [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706173
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Pompeii

**Author's Note:**

> A songfic? Nay, a song𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠? In the year of our lord 2020? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> Tried to capture Pompeii as it relates to Quentin having to leave his old life and friends behind, forced into this new FIllorian domesticity, and dealing with that. Not super happy with how this came out, but eh.

𝐸𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑀𝑜𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑠

Eliot resigned to spending the rest of his life on the quest a lot faster than Quentin did. Quentin talked a lot about the first thing he would do when he got home: take a hot shower, reread the Fillory series, make a cup of hot chocolate, sleep for 36 hours, it varied from day to day. Eliot spent a few months entertaining the idea, thinking about kissing Margo again or having one of his own signature cocktails, but around half a year in he gave up on that when the stalk of patterns grew so large that keeping it on the kitchen table was no longer an option, and they had to trade for a large wicker basket that now lived in the corner of their bedroom. He had never allowed Quentin to tell him the exact number of potential patterns, but he wasn't stupid, and he had a pretty general idea. On a good day, they got three, maybe four patterns done a day. Needless to say, it was going to take a really long fucking time. 

So, Eliot submitted to the idea of doing this forever, of being in love with Quentin forever, not that he wasn't in love with him before they came here. Quentin, on the other hand, spent a lot of time standing at the edge of what could roughly be called their property, staring off into space. It was late, now too dark to keep doing patterns, even by the light of the torches they had set up. Quentin was standing there, arms folded over his chest like he was cold, despite the warm Fillorian air. Eliot came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and setting his chin on top of his head, like they were lovers, like Q wasn't still obsessed with Alice, back on Earth. Q sighed, heavy and sad.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Eliot asked him, his voice soft and gentle. 

"We use a trade and barter system El." Quentin replied, amusement clear in his voice, so he couldn't be that upset.

"Alright, blowjob for your thoughts?" He tried, smirking even though Quentin couldn't see him. Always flirtatious, always trying, even if nothing would ever come of it. 

Quentin laughed, shaking his head faintly, careful not to dislodge Eliot's head from it's resting place. "Nothing, just, homesick, I guess."

Eliot sighed, patient, spinning Quentin around in his arms, still holding his waist close. 

"I know I haven't been very useful lately." He said, bowing his head slightly. It was true, Quentin's mental state had been worse than usual lately, and he'd spent a lot of time standing here, or huddled up beneath the covers inside the cottage. Eliot just brought him soup and petted his hair and sat with him, silent, because you couldn't talk Q out of his moments, you just had to love him through them, he picked up on that pretty fast.

"It's okay, Q, you don't have to be useful all the time." He smiled gently, running a hand through his hair.

Q sighed. "I guess so, I just, it's our quest, I should be, like, questing." He laughed softly as Eliot just shook his head again, kissing his forehead gently.

"You're sweet Q. I know you're not going to abandon this, it's okay if you need a break." Eliot wasn't sure he meant the puzzle or if he meant 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 when he said "this," and Q probably didn't know either, but that was a bit too open, too raw, too real for the conversation they were having, and Eliot bit his lip until he wasn't thinking about kissing Q stupid.

"I just, " Q started, sighing, looking up at the grey Fillorian sky, "I miss home, El. I miss Julia, I miss my dad, I miss-" 𝐴𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑒. It was there, but he didn't say it. "It just, it feels like I'm breaking, the longer we stay here. I'm falling apart El. My brain has all these grey clouds and smothering darkness and every day is exactly the fucking same. Wake up, breakfast, 2 sets, lunch, 2 sets, dinner, drink bad wine until we pass out, wash, rinse, repeat. And none of these fucking patterns work. The beauty of all life, what does that even 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛? I don't even know what that is, how am I supposed to-to show it with fucking colored ceramic?!" He didn't realize he was shouting until Eliot shushed him, his hand running through his hair, soothing.

"Close your eyes," Eliot whispered, already closing his. Quentin, eager to please, followed suit. "Tell me what you see."

"Uh, my eyelids?" He felt a little silly.

"No, think about home, tell me what you see." His voice was faint, and a little bit afraid, like Quentin was still in danger of flying off the handle.

Quentin squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and thought. "Um, I guess-I see Julia. It's her birthday, today, I think. I was going to buy her a book, some theory thing she's been raving about for like, a year. She's so excited about it El." He laughed, not feeling as silly anymore. "I see Margo, making fun of my hair, but she's-she's smiling, she doesn't mean it. Kady's bullying me into eating a sandwich, and I'm a little scared so I don't say no. Penny's being a dick, but Julia's watching him, he doesn't mean it either. Alice-She's reading something, curled up in the cottage, she's not looking at me, she still sort of hates me, but she can be in the same room with me now. You're making me a drink, and I don't bother asking what it is anymore, I trust you. God Eliot, I don't want to be here anymore. I want to see my friends again. I want us to be 𝑢𝑠 again." Eliot shushed him again, wiping his cheeks, Quentin didn't even realize that he'd been crying, with his eyes still clamped shut, like his friends would cease to exist if he opened them.

"No one can take that from you, little Q. We're going to be here a while, we have to do this. We have to save magic if we want us back. But no one can take that image from you, no one can take your friends from your head. Remember them Q, hold them close, it's okay. It's just me, but that doesn't mean you can't see them when you need to." At that, Quentin's eyes shot open, and he looked at Eliot, taking advantage of the fact that he couldn't see him, just watching his mouth move, his eyes move behind their lids, the tiger stripe shadows being cast across his handsome features. Quentin wanted to kiss him so bad. He always wanted to kiss him.

"I-" He didn't say it, but he tried anyway. "You're important to me too, El. I wouldn't-I mean, if it was anyone else-" he stopped, smiling. "I'm glad it's you, Eliot."

Eliot opened his eyes then, a little shocked, looking down at Q's face, smiling up eagerly at him. "You don't have to say that Q, I'm a big boy, I can handle it." Eliot wasn't stupid, he knew Q would rather be here with Julia, or Alice, or Margo, or anyone who wasn't him. Really, he knew Q would just rather not be here at all.

Q shook his head, almost frantic. "No, El, Jesus, 𝑛𝑜. I wouldn't. You're-You're my best friend El, I mean that. I'm-I'm so glad it's you, I promise." He seemed so desperate to convince Eliot that he just nodded along, ignoring the stabbing feeling of doubt he felt beneath his ribs.

"We can't always close our eyes, Q. We can't live there, you're right, and I know that you know that as well as I do. We can't get lost in ourselves, yeah, but that doesn't mean we can't do it when we need to." He smiled, his hand settling on the back of Q's neck, unbearably soft and fond. "it's okay to miss them. It's okay to miss the way things were. It's okay to pretend that nothing changed. Nothing's broken Q, you're not broken. Things are just different now, that's okay." He told him, convincing himself of the fact just as much as he was convincing Quentin. "Come inside soon, yeah? It won't be warm forever." He kissed his forehead again, squeezing the back of his neck before retreating back inside the cottage.

Quentin watched him go, taking a moment to reflect. The truth was, Eliot was right. He usually was, about these sorts of things. He couldn't close his eyes and dream and pretend forever, but it was nice to have. But he needed to be here. His life had shattered and tumbled down, his life back on Earth, the moment he and Eliot stepped through that portal. But he wasn't broken, and he could build a life here. Watching Eliot close the door to the cottage behind him, soft so as not to break the tranquil silence occupying the night since Quentin's little outburst. He supposed, as he imagined the sort of domesticity he could build with Eliot here, from the rubble of his old life, from the flaws of the person he used to be, that maybe things could be better. He had cracked a little when he came. He hadn't shattered, the way his life had, but he had certainly cracked. Then again, there are cracks in everything. That's how the light gets in.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos a Happy Author Makes!


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